Chapter 2

VIVIANNE

My phone dings as I smooth the last wrinkle from my bedspread. I freeze mid-motion, then snatch it from my nightstand.

The coffee maker gurgles in the background, but suddenly, caffeine is the last thing on my mind.

A new email.

From: Liam Stryder

Subject: Contract Attached

~Here’s the contract we discussed. Thanks again for pulling my head out of my ass. ~

~Liam~

My pulse jumps. I exhale sharply, then open the attachment before I can second-guess myself.

The document loads and my breath catches.

Seventy thousand. A week.

The number stares back at me, unreal. I blink and reread it. It doesn’t change. My stomach tightens as I scroll through the details—twenty-four-hour availability, exclusivity, and confidentiality clauses stacked like bricks.

This isn’t just a job. It’s something else entirely.

My hand trembles as I lower the phone.

~Am I really going to agree to this?~

The weight of it all presses in—not just the possibility of leaving New York, not just the cost of staying here, but the other reason I can’t walk away from this.

The call from weeks ago still lingers in my mind—the one that left me reeling, the one where the doctor’s voice had been too calm for what he was saying.

The words had blurred together at some point, but two things remained clear: Momma has cancer, and they could’ve caught it sooner—if she’d just let them.

Anger stirs beneath sadness, a bitter mix I can’t shake. If she had just listened instead of being so stubborn—

I drag in a slow breath, massaging my temples. I can’t fix everything, but I can do this. I have to.

I send the file to my printer and call Jenna.

“Hello?”

“Are you coming over?”

“I’ll bring the bagels. Be there in twenty.”

I hang up and head to the kitchen table, clearing it off before laying the contract down.

Jenna will let herself in. Her big personality is probably why we became friends so easily. She’s more carefree than I am, but she’s also not as driven.

We balance each other really well. I’ve only known her for about a year, but she quickly became someone I could rely on.

A soft knock before the door opens tells me she’s here. The scent of bagels drifts in, making my mouth water. It’s become our Sunday morning tradition.

I turn as she strips off her coat, tossing it over the back of the couch.

My apartment isn’t much—just a small living room, a kitchen that’s more like a kitchenette, a bedroom that resembles a broom closet, and a bathroom that probably was one.

I don’t have much furniture either, and there are no knickknacks around. I didn’t bring anything from home except clothes—it’s just more to clean and move around, anyway.

My eyes burn, my throat tightens. This woman has been my rock through everything in New York. She already looks so at home in my little apartment.

“What’s up, chick?” She flashes a smile, dropping the bag of bagels onto the counter.

I shift my feet, the contract sitting on the table like a lead weight, pressing down on more than just the wood beneath it. My fingers curl around the edge as I swallow hard.

“He sent me a contract,” I say finally. “It’s literally unbelievable.” I point at the stack of papers, my voice wavering between excitement and unease.

Jenna’s eyes widen. “A contract?” She moves as if to reach for it, but I slide my hand over the top, pressing it down.

She frowns. “What kind of contract?”

I force a shrug, my stomach twisting. “Nothing crazy. Just…terms. Expectations.”

She doesn’t look convinced. “For what, exactly?”

I will myself to sound casual. “Just some work. Helping with a few things.”

Jenna studies me, and my pulse kicks up. The words on the page burn beneath my fingertips. If she reads even one paragraph, she’ll know everything.

I should tell her. Keeping it to myself makes my chest feel tight, like I can’t get a full breath.

But I can’t tell her.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

Jenna tilts her head. “Are you sure about this?”

I hesitate, just for a second. Then I nod. “Yeah. I think so.”

This deal favors him, so I have to be smart. I refuse to sign if I don’t get more. If I’m giving up everything, I need something in return.

~It’s just a few months. Play the part. Walk away on my terms.~

Jenna doesn’t look convinced.

I’m not so sure I am either. Still, I have to do this.

I ~will~ do this.

We settle at the table, eating bagels and later sandwiches as we talk about working together.

Jenna steps away to make a call while I clear the plates and wipe the crumbs off the table. She’s staying over tonight, and we plan to veg out and watch movies, avoiding any more talks of contracts.

I grab my phone and head to the bedroom, hesitating only a second before dialing. The call barely rings twice before it’s answered.

“Liam Stryder.”

“So formal.” I chuckle, but my voice sounds thin. “I want to meet to discuss the contract.”

A long pause stretches between us. “Hello?”

“I’ll email you in the morning to let you know what slots I have open.” His tone is short and efficient.

“Okay. Bye.” I hang up, toss my phone onto the bed, and exhale.

When I return to the living room, Jenna is already sitting in front of the TV, waiting.

We spend the night buried in movies and snacks, letting the easy comfort of routine drown out reality.

The sharp chime of Jenna’s alarm jolts me awake. It’s only six-thirty. My back aches from lying on the floor all night, and I groan as I stretch.

Yawning, I grab my phone on the way to the bathroom to freshen up. A new email sits in my inbox: Liam Stryder.

A list of meeting times today pops up on the screen—the earliest at seven-thirty, the latest at two o’clock. I let out a long sigh and set my phone down to wash my face.

I take a deep breath and roll through the motions, trying to start my day. The scent of coffee lures me to the kitchen. Jenna hands me a mug, watching me carefully.

“Mr. Stryder sent me an email with times to meet him today,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep.

“Good. So what time is the appointment?”

“Well, I haven’t picked one yet.” I rattle off the options.

She looks at me, waiting.

I swallow, feeling the weight of my decision settle over me. “I think I’ll go with the nine-thirty slot.”

My fingers move before I can second-guess myself, typing a quick reply and hitting Send. A flutter in my belly turns to a steady hum of nerves.

Jenna grins. “Okay, so we have some time to get ready.”

I take a big gulp of coffee. “Want to help me pick an outfit? Something that says professional but hot as hell?”

“Absolutely. Let’s go.” She’s already heading toward my wardrobe. “I know exactly what I’m gonna make you wear.”

She makes a show of rifling through my clothes, critiquing each option. ~Too slutty. Too stuffy. Too boring. Too many colors.~

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. She has been such a light for me these past few weeks—I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Jenna pulls out a fitted blue dress with intricate black lace detailing that I haven’t worn yet. She holds it up, beaming. “This is the one.”

The back dips into a deep V of black lace, with delicate flowers and butterflies woven into the design and a small bow adorning the bottom. It’s sleek, sophisticated, and undeniably sexy.

I slip it on, the fabric hugging my curves in all the right places.

The vibrant blue pops against my skin, making me feel capable and powerful—I remember buying it for this exact reason.

Jenna’s eyes soften before she smirks. “Put your hair up. I’ll get dressed—I have to leave soon, or I’ll be late, but I’ll see you there, okay? You’re going to do great!”

I head to the bathroom, pulling my hair into a loose bun, leaving a few baby hairs to frame my face. I add a little eyeliner, mascara, and clear gloss.

I look drop-dead gorgeous.

I can’t help but worry that he won’t like it. I shake the thoughts from my head—I need to stay professional.

Back in my room, I grab a sleek black bag with a gold chain and toss the gloss inside. Sliding into my black heels, I exhale and roll my shoulders back.

I take one last glance at my reflection, then grab my keys.

Time to sign my life away.